


Decisions Made, No Regrets

by Telaryn



Series: The Hero and The Bad Boy [8]
Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Established Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Headcanon, Honesty, Loss, Loyalty, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Psychological Trauma, Questioning, Recovery, Sacrifice, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that he's made the decision to be honest about his relationship with Quinn, Clint is forced to choose between his life with S.H.I.E.L.D. and his new relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions Made, No Regrets

When the summons came from Fury, Clint didn’t tell anyone – even Natasha. He’d been with S.H.I.E.L.D. long enough to know how thing like this went. From the moment he’d agreed to be truthful with his therapist about his relationship situation, Clint had been mentally counting off the days he had left. Reports on agents under psychiatric observation were due by the twenty-fifth of every month, so Fury would have time to review them before reporting to _his_ superiors on the tenth of every following month. Add in the impromptu confrontation between Captain America and Quinn at the Avengers mansion two days earlier, and Clint was privately surprised it had taken as long as it had.

“Shut the door.” It was Nick Fury’s own person version of a greeting; Clint obeyed without comment, falling into a parade rest stance opposite the S.H.I.E.L.D. director while Fury was still pretending to be engrossed in the tablet computer lying on his desk.

“If this is supposed to be one of your patented little jokes Agent,” Fury began, finally looking up and meeting Clint’s gaze, “I’m _not_ laughing.”

Clint let his own focus slide away, fixing his attention on a point at the opposite wall. If Fury was going to use the book to crucify him, he would play it to the letter. “No joke, sir. Friends convinced me that continuing to lie to Dr. Barrister wasn’t helping my recovery.”

He could see Fury scowling at the edge of his vision. “I’ll be speaking to Agent Romanoff shortly about her role in this cluster fuck.”

“Agent Romanoff wasn’t the only one, sir.” Clint knew that he couldn’t stop whatever Fury had decided he needed to do to punish Natasha – and she wouldn’t thank him for trying – but he felt obligated to deflect whatever he could of the Director’s anger. “Quinn was the one who finally persuaded me to speak up.”

“Because he cares so much about you.” Fury’s voice was dripping with sarcasm now, and Clint barely resisted looking the man in the eye again.

“Yes sir,” he said; his voice tight. Memory of the night he’d finally let himself be talked into telling his therapist everything rushed through his mind – he’d woken up screaming in Quinn’s bed from a nightmare where he’d been about to be butchered and Quinn’s hand was the one on the saw. “He knew what it was likely to cost,” he forced himself to continue; barely suppressing a shiver of emotion, “and he was ready to break it off if I couldn’t make the choice for myself.”

“The choice to torpedo your career you mean?” Fury planted his fists on his desk and rose slowly to his feet. “Because unless you’re here to tell me that you’re giving up sleeping with the man who _executed_ eight of your men and nearly ruined you…”

“The man who backed Nat up when she and Dr. Banner were taken prisoner by Yelena Belova and nearly died for his trouble,” Clint countered. Now he did look Fury full in the face. “I know who he was and I know what he’s done since; better than you… _sir._ ”

“You are walking a very dangerous line, Agent Barton,” Fury growled. “I would think very carefully about what you intend to say next.”

Clint swallowed hard. “Quinn has made his choice, Director. He’s willing to put all of his previous contacts and experience at my…at _our_ disposal. He’s getting out of the game.” _Don’t make me do this,_ he thought. S.H.I.E.L.D. had saved him, given his life purpose and direction. It had brought him Natasha and the Avengers, and he would always feel a sense of loyalty and obligation to Fury for that.

The Director seemed to sense some of what Clint was feeling, because his expression and his stance softened somewhat. “It’s too late, Clint. If you’d been up front with me or Dr. Barrister from the beginning we might have been able to figure something out. Now…” He shook his head. “As long as you’re with him, no one is going to trust where your loyalties are. Your position within the organization, your clearance – all of it’s going to be at risk.”

“So it’s Quinn or S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Clint asked. “Director, I don’t want to choose. All of this has been because I shouldn’t have to choose. Quinn made his choice so I wouldn’t have to choose.”

There was pity in Fury’s expression now, and Clint understood that it was over. He’d lost, and either he was going to give in, or finally make his leap of faith into the unknown. “You were always going to have to choose,” Fury said finally. “You know this, or you wouldn’t have lied to me for as long as you have been.”

“I lied,” Clint said softly as realization what he was about to do swept through him, “because I wasn’t ready to accept that my choice wasn’t going to be you.”

Silence fell between them. Clint waited for regret to fill his soul, for the words to come to hand that he didn’t mean it, that he wanted to change his mind, take it back; but the longer he waited, the more sure he became that he’d made the right choice. _The only choice._ He was happier with Quinn now than he’d been in a very long time, and Clint was finally ready to believe that he deserved a chance to see where that road led him.

Fury had one more weapon in his arsenal, however, and the Director wasn’t a man to leave an opportunity unexplored. “Do you think Phil Coulson would approve of the choices you’ve been making lately?”

The world slipped sideways on Clint – suddenly he was in the zone where he waited hours on a rooftop for a target; that place in his soul where he killed with a single shot and walked away without a second glance. “I’d like to think if Agent Coulson were here we wouldn’t be having this conversation…sir.” Clint didn’t know if the little bit of a thing he and Phil Coulson had managed to carve out for themselves had ever been anything more than a cheesy office affair – not really. Thanks to Loki and the Tesseract, they’d never had the chance to find out.

 _He died thinking you were lost._ It was one of a million emotional wounds Clint knew he would never be able to heal properly. “Can I have time to pack my things?” He couldn’t dwell on Coulson – had to believe that if there was something beyond death, his former handler would at least be rooting for him to be happy.

Fury nodded. “I’ll have to put you under guard, but I don’t think we need to be antagonistic about this.” He paused. “Will you go to the Avengers?”

Clint shrugged. “If they’ll have me.”  
***************************  
He wasn’t surprised to find Nat waiting in Fury’s outer office; Fury wasn’t going to let something like this fester. She came to him immediately, taking both his hands in hers. “Quinn wanted to come too, but…”

Numb through and through now, Clint nodded. “His guest access has been revoked. I know.” He paused, thinking over everything that had changed in so short a time. “He won’t be getting it back either.”

“Agent Romanoff!” Fury called through the partially open door. Sensing the guards that had entered the waiting room behind him, Clint leaned in and kissed his now former partner on the cheek. “I’ll be at Quinn’s. Come find me when you can.” He wanted to go to the mansion – Tony had given him his own suite of rooms, after all, but he wasn’t going to presume on the rest of the team until they had a chance to hear about his change in status and the reasons behind it.

Eyes followed him from every direction as he walked the familiar corridor leading towards his quarters. Clint wondered briefly how many of them would be patting themselves on the back later for having “seen” that he would go this way after being compromised by Loki. _Probably congratulating themselves for knowing that I shouldn’t be trusted ever again._

The two men pacing him were at least mercifully silent, and if they had an opinion about his situation Clint couldn’t sense it. He was, however, surprised to see Steve Rogers waiting outside his door when the three of them finally arrived at their destination.

The guard to his left took an immediate half step forward, but was restrained almost as quickly by his partner. “We’ll wait out here Agent Barton,” he said, glancing at Clint. “Please try not to take too long.”

Momentarily overcome by the courtesy, Clint met the guard’s eyes and nodded. “Fifteen minutes,” he said. “No more.” There was very little of his life with S.H.I.E.L.D. he would be taking with him – right now it was more important that he fade away as quickly and quietly as he could. Blowing out a quiet breath, he turned to face Steve. “Come on in, if you want to talk.” He was pretty sure what was on the Captain’s mind, but he couldn’t muster the energy to be angry at the man. _He wasn’t wrong._

“I didn’t tell Fury about the other day,” Steve said, as soon as the door closed behind him and he and Clint were ostensibly alone.

Clint had managed to grab his duffel bag, but he paused and raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Why not?” He’d assumed, given the nature of the confrontation between Quinn and Steve, that the Captain would be providing details directly to Fury.

Steve leaned his back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was trying to keep it in the family, as it were,” he said. “I had some concerns about the situation – hell Clint, we all have – but as long as Quinn could give me the answers I was looking for, I figured that getting S.H.I.E.L.D. involved was only going to make things worse.” His eyes ticked down to the bundle of heavy canvas Clint had almost forgotten he was holding. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Clint immediately regretted the speed of his response. “Okay I am. I’m sorry I lied about everything and ended up making the whole situation more difficult for everybody, but I don’t blame Fury for what he did.” He forced himself to open his footlocker where most of his civilian clothes were stored and start transferring them into his duffle. The locker itself was S.H.I.E.L.D. issue otherwise he would have just taken the whole thing.

“Are you going to move into the mansion?” Clint paused, briefly ducking his head. It was a perfectly reasonable question, but too much was still unsettled for Clint to feel entirely comfortable declaring himself one way or the other.

Finally, he settled back on his heels and looked up at Steve. “I want to,” he admitted, “but there’s still too much that needs to be settled before I can even think about that.” He chuckled bitterly. “I don’t even know what Fury’s going to put on my discharge papers. I didn’t…” He sighed. “I didn’t want to assume everyone would automatically be okay with me becoming a full time Avenger.”

He was grateful that Rogers didn’t immediately respond. Tony or any of the others would have likely been scrambling to play off what Clint had done, assure him that of course he was one of them, and try to commiserate with him about how unfair Fury had been. “I’m a big boy, Cap,” he said at last. “I know where I went wrong, and it’s actually a relief to finally be able to deal with the consequences.” He’d been feeling trapped, and hadn’t even realized it until decisions had been made and the feeling was suddenly just not there anymore.

“You know Nat’s not going to stay here without you,” Steve said, as Clint resumed his packing.

Clint couldn’t stop the smile that softened his expression, even though out loud all he said was, “That’s up to her.” Nobody ever discussed Natasha Romanoff’s loyalties out loud, being reasonably sure they wouldn’t like the answer; but Clint privately couldn’t help hoping that Steve was right.  
*********************  
By the time Clint was ready to leave, Natasha had finished her meeting with Fury. “He wants to speak to you,” she told Rogers, before falling into step with Clint. The archer was tempted for half a second to ask her what the outcome of her meeting had been, but her presence here and now with him told him everything he needed to know. Asking for words would be confessing his own insecurities and doubting her, and Clint was tired of doing both.

Quinn was sitting on the hood of Clint’s car, dressed in dark jeans and his black leather jacket over a navy blue shirt. His hair was tied back in a ponytail, but a few strands had escaped and were playing across his face. As he and Natasha moved closer, Clint saw his lover’s pale eyes take in the duffel bag across his shoulder, process what it meant and come to grips with the conclusion.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sliding off the dark metal as they reached him and landing lightly on his feet.

Clint smiled, for the first time relaxing completely into how he always felt these days when Quinn was nearby. “I’m not.” Before Quinn could say anything else, he let his duffel fall, stepped in on the other man and pulled him down into a kiss. After a moment’s hesitation, Quinn’s arms went around him and pulled him in even tighter. Clint felt heat pool low in his belly at the contact – the last of his tension and worry finally bleeding away.

“Get a room,” Nat snorted, grabbing his duffel and slinging it into the trunk.

“Speaking of,” Clint said as he and Quinn finally broke off their kiss, “I hear you’ve got a couch I might be able to use until we figure things out?”

Quinn rolled his eyes, passing him the keys to the car. “I think we can definitely do better than a couch.” He paused, hugging Clint against his side. “It’s pretty lumpy, after all.”

He seemed reluctant to let Clint go in order to get in the car; finally Clint turned to face him. “You really chose me?” Quinn asked, clearly stunned at the direction things had taken. “Clint, that’s your entire life you just walked away from.”

Still smiling Clint shook his head. “It’s one small part of my life. And I don’t regret a thing.”


End file.
